


Worship the Earth

by FleetofShippyShips



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bottom Arthur, Canon Era, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Soul Sex, Top Merlin, magic sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9457013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: Merlin's magic is meant to worship the earth, but he'd rather use it to worship Arthur. He's come to learn, one cannot happen without the other.





	

It always begins sooner than Merlin expects.

When Arthur retires to his tent early, far too early, Merlin knows it for the sign it is. Feeling his body start to come alive, he glances around the knights. They’re nowhere near ready to retire. Irritated, Merlin waits. He joins in on their jokes, and he acts like he’s becoming more, and more tired.

Instead, his heart rate is climbing.

It’s almost like he can feel the thrum of the earth through his boots. He’s aching to leave, but he can’t, not yet. The anticipation makes him break the twig he’s playing with.

One by one, the knights slowly retire, until only Merlin and the watch remain.

Stretching, and faking a yawn, he ambles over to Arthur’s tent. This has become so much easier since Arthur became king. Even though he could refuse the tradition of having a tent while travelling, it’s just too convenient.

As Merlin enters the tent, he doesn’t bother looking around. He crosses the space, and slips out the back.

Before him is dark, quiet forest. Behind him, he can hear the crackle of the fire.

Smiling slowly, he starts to walk forward.

After a while, when he can no longer see the camp behind him, nor any hint of the firelight, he starts to find discarded clothing.

His pulse quickens, and he stills. Closing his eyes, he opens his senses, and lets his magic flow. It’s far more enjoyable this way. It builds on the desire already rising within him.

When he opens his eyes again, he sees clearly in the dark, and knows his eyes glow. Looking around, he sees the markers of Arthur’s path. Broken twigs, crushed leaves. Careless. Or perhaps eager.

Smiling softly to himself, he follows the trail Arthur left him.

With every step closer to Arthur, his magic sings louder.

His magic hears the water long before his ears do, like a stutter in the rhythm of the earth. Pausing, he toes off his boots and socks, and lets his feet touch the earth.

It sings to him, and shows him the way.

The glow of his eyes is creeping down his face, thin, swirling tendrils of gold. It lights the air around him. He doesn’t need it to see. He feels the tug towards Arthur through the earth, and through his magic. He could walk blind, and still find him.

As he nears the water, dead leaves and earth tickling his feet, he starts discarding his own clothing.

He doesn’t recall how far he’s walked, it hardly matters. His magic will lead them home again.

The sound of water reaches his ears, even if he’s familiar now with its flow. Moonlight is breaking through the thinning trees, although he doesn’t need it to see.

Pushing through the bushes, he finally sees him.

Arthur turns at the sound.

He’s standing in the water, a clean, clear pool. It comes to his waist, but there are droplets trickling down his chest. His hair is wet, and slicked back. The moonlight makes him glow, cold, pale. Counterpoint to the golden glow of magic around and within Merlin.

Merlin’s clothes are already discarded, so he steps forward. Arthur’s eyes have been travelling his body, just as Merlin’s did to him.

Merlin can almost hear the increase in Arthur’s pulse from the edge of the water.

Maybe he does. Most of his magic is still a mystery to him.

As Merlin walks into the water, seeing the reflection of himself, golden light twisting around his skin, Arthur moves forward.

His lips are curving, and a flush is forming on his skin. Merlin smiles as well.

When they meet, Merlin doesn’t watch the golden glow of his skin meet the pale stretch of Arthur’s. Instead, he watches as Arthur’s eyes track Merlin’s hands, as they trail over his chest.

Merlin’s magic sings to him, shivers within him. Arthur’s breath hitches, and Merlin can almost feel it in his own chest.

Their mouths meet, and it’s gentle, slow.

Their hands stray, and it’s like they’re rediscovering secret paths.

Their bodies press, and it’s like coming home.

Arthur has his cloak laid down away from the shore. Merlin lays him down, and reaches behind him. Water flies to his hand in a perfect, hovering sphere. Arthur watches, his eyes glowing a muted gold, reflecting the magic surrounding Merlin.

A stray thought, and the water is oil, and his fingers are seeking and pressing. Arthur’s eyes never stop roaming, taking in all of Merlin. All of him.

Arthur’s back arches, his hands clench fistfuls of the cloak under him, but his eyes never stray. They’re both silent, save for ever harsher breathing. Merlin’s magic lights the air around them, as they watch each other.

Arthur breathes his name, and Merlin’s magic shivers under his skin. The glow about him intensifies. His pulse quickens, and it almost feels like the thrum of the earth quickens with it. Connected to him through his magic, maybe it does.

Arthur’s breath is catching on a moan. It might be the magic, but it might also be the slow stretch, as Merlin presses into him.

They’re close, but rather than kiss his lips, Merlin turns and kisses the calf that’s hooked over his shoulder. As small, careful twitches of his hips turn to long, slow thrusts, he meets Arthur’s eyes.

They’re half lidded, and still reflecting the glow of his magic.

Arthur sees all of him, and it never ceases to make Merlin’s body come alive.

If he closes his eyes, he’s sure he can still see Arthur, glowing, as if he were made of magic. But he doesn’t close his eyes. He can’t look away.

His magic reaches for Arthur, golden tendrils of light, snaking around the leg over Merlin’s shoulder, where he has one hand, holding tight, and spiralling higher, around his thigh, over his hip.

Arthur arches his back and moans, and moans. Merlin can hear it with his ears, his magic, and feel it as if were vibrating out from his own chest.

Barely able to think past the surges of magic and pleasure racing through him, he watches his magic claim more and more of Arthur’s skin.

Arthur’s still watching him, still looking. The gold spreads over his skin in swirling, curling tendrils. There’s a blank space over his heart. Merlin makes a weak sound, and lays his hand there.

It surges through them, binding them. For a few moments, they are one. He knows Arthur can see him, and _feel_ him. The pleasure of their bodies comes second to this, it always does.

Merlin feels like they might be kissing, even though he knows they aren’t. He feels like Arthur’s arms are around him, body pressed tight, although it’s not. Arthur still lies on the ground, and Merlin still presses into him.

Inside, they are entwined, curling around each other and glowing bright.

It doesn’t end until several moments later, their passion discharging out, into the air, into the earth.

Merlin is never sure if their bodies are satisfied first, or their souls. Maybe it’s too close to tell, or maybe it’s easy, but just not important enough to check. It’s a meaningless detail.

The glow of his magic is fading, and he leans down. Their bodies press, and settle. Arthur is kissing him, and Merlin is crying.

The earth cries with him, he can feel it in his bones. It always wants more. More of his passion, more of his magic. More of the binding of their souls.

It’s never satisfied, and they can never get away often enough.

“I miss you,” Arthur whispers against his lips.

Merlin tears are shimmering with golden light. His eyes still hold magic. Arthur’s reflect it, now that he looks. He wishes it was always that way.

“I’m always with you,” Merlin murmurs in return.

But never the way they wish. Never like this.

The earth demands too much of Merlin, and the cold stone of the castle cannot carry his magic.

“I’m king,” Arthur says, his hands tracing designs on Merlin’s back. If Merlin closes his eyes, he can see them as if Arthur is touching the last retreating tendrils of his magic. Somehow, Arthur always knows just where to touch him. “I’ll ride out more often.”

Merlin smiles sadly. It’s never enough. The earth won’t be satisfied until they are buried within it, and Merlin’s magic, bound at last, irreversibly, to Arthur’s soul, gives all that it has left to give.

“I can’t wait,” he whispers, and then silences Arthur’s lips with his own.

The walk back is never as enjoyable, and always comes too soon.

If they wait just a little longer, they might glow again.

**Author's Note:**

> So, how I see this. Merlin cannot have sex with Arthur inside the castle, his magic won't let it happen if the energy from the binding of their souls is not released into the earth. But, their souls are meant to be together, so it also instinctively happens if they start to be physically intimate, which is why Merlin's magic prevents him from full arousal within the castle with Arthur. (i.e. he can have sex with someone else, or he can bottom without coming himself (with Arthur)).
> 
> Couldn't fit that in without ruining the tone.
> 
> However, **feel free to imagine they have normal, non-magic sex all the time in the castle and this soul-ish sex is just for special times** cos my headcanon of this is just depressing.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [ylime94](http://ylime94.tumblr.com).


End file.
